


Souvenirs  Incontournables

by StygianScaphism



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Character Death, F/M, Flashbacks, Hawkmoth Defeat, Heavy Angst, Hurt, Spoilers, The Author Regrets Nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-19 17:09:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17605463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StygianScaphism/pseuds/StygianScaphism
Summary: Perhaps fate is not always sealed in stone. Perhaps, when we fool ourselves into believing that we cannot change the course of destiny we have already cemented it, and perhaps a second, a moment of consideration, was all that was needed to alter the future.





	Souvenirs  Incontournables

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work, so I’d enjoy any constructive criticism or comments anyone would prefer to leave! That being said, don’t be cruel for the sake of it. Enjoy yourself some angst.

Perhaps fate is not always sealed in stone. Perhaps, when we fool ourselves into believing that we cannot change the course of destiny we have already cemented it, and perhaps a second, a moment of consideration, was all that was needed to alter the future. 

Adrien Agreste wished he had that moment- that chance to alter the path of fate. Even a second, really, to go into the past and fix his mistakes. It was too late to do so now- it always was. His hands clenched and curled into an empty fist, unclenching and hanging limp at his sides after a long moment. 

_If only- _if only he hadn’t hesitated in the fight, if only there was more time to think and if only he had known what she planned early on-__

____

____

_If only he hadn’t killed her-_

____

____

“Chat Noir?” 

A quiet voice brought him out of his sorrows, hushed and tentative. Nino gazed up at him forlornly, hair plastered to his face as the rain poured on around him, the bleak grey of the sky reflecting his mood. A rumble of thunder passed overhead. He hadn’t noticed it was raining. 

Adrien’s voice constricted and suddenly he was all too aware of where he was again, black suit tight and uncomfortable on his body, clinging to his skin due to it’s wet state. He loathed the garment with everything he had; fueling the tremors of rage with it because he would not last long if he treated himself as he believed he deserved. His knuckles felt raw as the rain poured onto them, reminding him of the intense pain he had put himself through before this; it had distracted him as he so desperately craved, if only for a moment. 

He shook his head slightly, jolting himself out of his thoughts and letting the mop of dripping hair loosen up slightly, ears twitching as he directed his attention to Nino again, regarding the male who did not know Chat Noir very well- if at all. He jumped down nimbly from the pole he sat upon unseeingly, feeling none of his confident persona- nor anything, really. 

“Sorry,” he said softly, and he hated how emotionless it sounded, empty and hollow and distant. Why couldn’t he muster some feeling? Everything was numb and his head swirled, heart throbbing in his chest. “Got lost in my head for a moment. What did you need?” Every word that rolled off his tongue seemed rehearsed, operating on autopilot, a false grin stretching his mouth open, familiarly, deceivingly. It curved up as if everything was alright. 

Nino looked at him for a moment, in all his misery, and his eyes softened slightly. Before another word could pass from his lips, barely hearable in the chilling downpour, a warm and solid presence hugged him tightly from behind. He remained statue still, looking down at the bold hands that encircled his leather-clad waist. “It’s okay to not be alright, Chat.” Alya told him, bleary voice muffled into his suit. He hadn’t noticed her presence before, either. He knew she’d been crying- he could hear it in her voice, feel it in the way her arms trembled around him, needing the support as much as he did. He _wished _he could cry like that.__

____

____

His arms hung limp at his sides, unable to move. He felt as if he was being torn apart, messily stitched back together and restarted, like an automated doll. Memories flashed through his head vividly, and in the span of a second, he crumpled to the floor, uncaring of the opinions and concerns of his company. He didn’t give a damn about the suit- to hell it went, for all he cared. Alya and Nino crouched down next to him, Adrien’s hands came to wring and pull at his hair as he half-rocked, breath hitching as everything came flooding back, leaving him lost in memories as they worried over Paris’s hero. 

_It seemed like only yesterday. The clash of metal and grunts of fights, the familiar whizz of his lady’s yo-yo-_

____

____

The nostalgia brought the first, quiet and tearless sobs to his chest, almost unnoticeable. 

_But time seemed to slow down. In the midst of the fight which they had anticipated before; well, she had. His lady had a feeling about it for a while, the looming confrontation with Hawkmoth and Mayura. Looking back, he found it bittersweet that he had full confidence in their victory. He had always thought Ladybug could do anything- but this time, it seemed-_

____

____

The sobs grew louder, and they racked his chest like a cough, an infection, a disease. His shoulders heaved as he fought off visions of the past, the lump forming in his throat painful. 

_It seemed to all come back in blurry flashes- the moment they were cornered, and the hope drained from his heart, victory seemingly lost- the moment Ladybug held his face in her palm, like a final farewell- she kissed him softly, without warning, and charged ahead- and then the moment she fell, down, down down- ___

____

____

Was he crying? His vision blurred, tears tracking down his cheeks, and arms cradled him gently; yet he was not in the present. He was reliving his worst nightmare, and his only reality.

_He watched her disappear over the edge of the Eiffel Tower, his voice foreign to his own ears as he screamed himself hoarse. He didn’t care that she took Hawkmoth with her- if he had used his baton, maybe she could have caught on- but his baton was long gone in the midst of the fight._

____

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_And for the smallest of moments, they locked eyes as she went down, reassurance plastered on her face for his sake as she plummeted violently._

____

____

Unable to relive the past again, Chat shook himself out of his daze and pushed off the concerns hands and arms, brushing off their words and questions just as easily. He extended his baton- he had gathered it in shock before, and now his fingers clenched tight around it- before he shot up into the air, making his way through the city streets. 

A few days later, both Marinette Dupain-Cheng and Adrien Agreste were reported missing- and Chat Noir never graced the streets of Paris with his presence again.


End file.
